


Trading Guilt for Rage

by LadyGreen99



Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Animated (2007)
Genre: Bounty Hunter Optimus Prime, Gen, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, What-If, bounty hunter AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-03
Updated: 2016-02-03
Packaged: 2018-04-07 10:13:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,182
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4259499
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyGreen99/pseuds/LadyGreen99
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A look into Optimus as a Bounty Hunter: how he came to be one and how that affects the transformers animated story-line.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Alright, so this is based off of [rinpin's artwork](http://rinpin.tumblr.com/post/97034769248/so-i-doodled-some-bounty-bots-after-working-on) and it was a super interesting concept because it would mean that Elita and Optimus- two hero type characters- ended up not so good, while Sentinel isn't good but he ended up becoming high-ranked. 
> 
> I wanted to explore that concept more, so this going to be my multi-part attempt at it, as mentioned in the summary.
> 
> Just a small warning: updates are going to be sporadic, I don't have a beta-reader and while there's no warnings right now, that may change. 
> 
> There's nothing else to add right now, so I'll leave you to it and sincerely hope you enjoy!

There are moments when everything changes.

Sometimes they take less than a second, sometimes it’s a series of moments, but it causes change nevertheless.

For Optimus Prime’s transition into Orion Pax, it started with his group’s decision to go to Archa Seven. The next moment was Elita’s fall, when the moment happened in an instant, and there was nothing he could do to change it. Despite Sentinel accusing him otherwise. 

Time passes, moments of guilt and sadness stack up with each other.

The feelings of guilt and sadness only get worse as a trial begins with Magnus as judge, and it doubles when Sentinel lays the blame on Optimus. 

With guilt for Elita's fall and sadness clouding his mind, he takes the fall for everything. 

It's only by Ultra Magnus's mercy that Optimus still has a career to go to. 

He'll take it, because it's the only option he has left, and he wants to make amends. 

Except, in one moment, it changes yet again; two days before he is supposed to leave is where our story starts.

 


	2. Regrets and Going Out

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First off, I want to say thank you for the comments and the support for this. I really, truly appreciate it.
> 
> I know it has been a semi-long time coming, but I am grateful for your patience and I hope you enjoy this new chapter.
> 
> WARNING: Optimus is going to be in a bad headspace, so just a heads up for that. 
> 
> Here are the times for the Cybertronian time units:  
> Solar Cycle: ~1 day  
> Breem: ~2 hours

Every solar cycle after the trial, Optimus has spent it in his habsuite. This is not only due to Optimus's own lack of motivation, but because he wanted to avoid his fellow classmates and Autobots. 

Sentinel wasn't the only one who blamed him for Elita's death, especially after he was declared guilty at the trial, after stellar cycles of deliberation. All the classmates who had been friends with Elita- who Optimus had been, by extension, friends with- had shouted, jeered, and  _blamed_ him for Elita's demise. Some even threw things. Optimus didn't try to stop them, he deserved it. He would even go so far to say that if it wasn't for the fact that they were all trying to enlist onto the Guard, they would have hurt, or maybe even killed him. Elita had been really well-liked. 

It was the bodyguard of the building, an Elite guard femme, who helped get him out of there before his (former) fellow classmates could start to riot. Optimus didn't resist. After all, he couldn't really see the point.

The femme, who was well-built blue and white, managed to strong arm her way through the crowd of students with him in tow and back to his habsuite.

Optimus thanked her for getting him back home. He started to walk inside when she coughed. Turning She handed him the datapad, explaining, "It's from the Magnus about your new job designation." 

Then she turned and walked away without another word. 

Curious, he entered his own habsuite with datapad in hand. He sat down on his berth, and turned the datapad, reading it through. 

While he read it through, he read it over again to ensure he read it _correctly_. There had been no mistake: he was to be placed as a Maintenance Bot.

 _No_ , he had corrected himself. _A Maintenance_ Prime.

He was to be in charge of others, in cleaning space bridges, probably until he offlined. He would never become an Elite Guard member, never become a hero, and Elita- _Elita-_  Wrapping his arms around himself, let the last wall inside himself fall, letting sadness wash over him and keening for everything lost.

Now, though? Now, he was lucky if he could get the motivation to go to the washracks and feel clean. 

Optimus was brought back to the reality of now by a notification on his HUD about 'low fuel levels' and 'refueling needed'. He ignored the warnings; he's gone longer without it these past few orns and he would fine for another breem or two. Habitually, he checked the chronometer: two and a half solar cycles left until he had to show up for his new job post. 

He didn't want to think about the job he would have to do for the rest of his life cycle, but there was no way to stop the inevitable.

Shutting off his optics, he curled on himself and tried to will himself to sleep. It took a while, but eventually, his frame was coaxed into sweet sleep. 

~~~~~

One thing he- if not enjoyed- then liked about being about being able to sleep more was the in-between state of being online and being entirely gone. He still existed, but he didn't have to move or  _do_ anything. He just existed. Simply to be there. 

It was a nice feeling.

Something was poking him awake, and Primus, he didn't want to. He wanted to stay like this, suspended, forever. 

The poking persisted, however, and- with no small amount of grumbling- onlined his optics. 

And, frozen in terror, deeply regretted it seconds after. 

Above him, a spider from Archa Seven, was on top of him. His battle protocols were online in an instant, but he was frozen and he couldn't lift a servo. He tried to scream, but all that came out was static. 

 _The spider must have trapped me in it's web,_ Optimus realized with his fuel tanks dropping to his wheels. _And there's no way I can call for help with a broken vocalizer._

_I'm doomed._

The spider inched ever closer, and despite all his battle protocols being online, he still could not move a single servo. 

 _Please Primus_ _, Elita, anyone,_  he prayed harder than he had in his life.  _Please help me!_

The spider was right in his faceplate, and his vents roared to life, his spark flaring erratically in his chestplates. The spider got in close, and it- 

**REFUEL NECESSARY! SHUT DOWN IMMINENT!**

With a choked-off scream, Optimus sat up vents roaring, his HUD blaring "REFUEL NECESSARY!" in obnoxious red lettering, and in his habsuite. 

Frantically, Optimus shoved the warnings aside to scan the room, fearful of what could be in his habsuite. When both scans and optics both confirmed that he was truly alone, he turned off his battle protocols. But then, his processor dragged up memory, and he didn't want to be alone anymore, he wanted to be near other mechanisms and femmechanisms. He wanted to be  _with_  Cybertorians again.  _  
_

_'I need to get out of here.'_  He thought.  _'I need to get out.'_  

He got off the berth, when his HUD flashed again with warnings to refuel. 

To shut it up, he snatched a glass and shoved it into the dispenser; automatically, the glass started to fill up with some energon. Optimus put his hands on the wall, taking deep ventilations to calm the erratic pulses of his spark. 

 _Primus,_ Optimus thought.  _Frag spiders._

By the time the sparkless dispenser pinged 'Complete! Enjoy your fuel!' in a faux cheery voice, Optimus had calmed down even though he can still feel the remnants of the spider's legs on his plating. He takes the glass, and barely tastes the flavor as he chugs it down. He tosses it aside, barely caring where it landed. He was too busy processing where to go. 

Some reckless, impulsive part wanted to just drive into the sunset, but he shut up that part of him up quickly; it wouldn't do to just, randomly drive around. He didn't exactly want to run into anyone who knew him. After all, if they knew him, then they would also had known about Elita, too, and he, he didn't want to deal with that.

_Besides, where on Cybertron would I be able to relax without running into anyone I know?_

When an idea did pop up, he paused and wondered if he had some sort of virus in his system, and did a quick scan. 

The reckless, impulsive part of him rose up, and this time. This time he let himself be impulsive and reckless. 

Optimus walked to the door, and when it opened,  stepped out of his habsuite. Helodia was setting, temporarily blinding him until his optic sensors adjusted. 

It would be weird enough he was going out by himself in broad daylight to get drunk; he didn't want to be called a weirdo for drinking in broad daylight. Transforming into his alt mode, he drove onto the streets away from his habsuite. Optimus drove past Iacon's city border, past the point where the buildings looked remotely decent, and arrived in the "Silver Plating" district. It was regard for the 'lower Autobots' who didn't have upper class jobs or who were on the high path to 'bigger and better things'. 

No aspiring, ambitious mech or femme would be caught dead here, but Optimus was hardly...

He couldn't exactly aspire to be more than he was, anymore. 

 _At least no one I know would_ ever  _be caught dead here._  He thought. 

Optimus was going to get overcharged to the point where he couldn't remember his own designation or the remnants of the nightmare that had clung to his processor. 

He was- if only for tonight- be a little rebel.

Besides, what's the harm in getting a little drunk?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Had Optimus stayed in his habsuite, and calmed down there, he would have gone on the path that led to him to defeating Megatron and becoming a hero.
> 
> If you have any questions, feel free to leave a comment!
> 
> Thank you for reading, and I will see you all next update!!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I LIIIIIVVEEE.  
> Here's a chapter.  
> Sorry it's short, but I hope you all enjoy regardless.

Optimus walks into a bar named "Silver Linings"-  _which could have not sounded more like a porno name in his processor_  - and, after opening the door, is blown away by the sheer number of mechanisms in the place, being loud and drinking with gusto. Some music with unintelligible lyrics and a strong bass rock through- _what he hopes is_ \- a sparkless speaker system. Almost all the tables are completely full

It was something he didn't usually like. He usually preferred a library, a quiet place with little to no transformers to be heard or seen, and a good datapad. But almost all the times he was in a library, he was often joined by Elita-

He resets his optics and walks in without looking back outside. This place is just what he needs, right now. 

Optimus walks around most of the tables and their occupants, most not even bothering to give him a passing glance, and settles at one of the tables.  

Within kilks, a femme server carrying a tray and wearing an sultry smile comes over. 

"Hello, my good mech." She- as far as he can tell- purrs, leaning in close to his personal space. "What'd you like for me to get you this evening?"

"Um." He spares a glance at the menu, and just says, "Surprise me."

Her grin widens, and she nods, backing off . "Will do, my good mech." She swaggers off.

He sighs and leans on the back of his seat. He shuts his optics, letting the wave of conversation and the deep bass wash over him in a calming wave. Soon, his drink arrives, and he thanks the waitress, and takes a sip- he nearly spits it out at the strong taste. Fortunately, for him and what remained of his pride-  _although why did he even bother at this point?_ \- he was able to minimize his reaction to it. 

"Anything else for you, my good mech?" She asked with a wink. 

"Um, no thank you, that's all for now." He replies. 

"I'll be here for  _anything_ you need, my  _good_ mech." She purrs once more, before waking away with a swing in her hips to her other tables.

 _Well._ He thinks.  _That was something._

He's never understood flirting; was the point of it to make the other person uncomfortable? If it was, he was the gold-plated champion in that regard. 

Optimus looks down at his drink. The drink, blue as space and containing more sparkles than a new cycle festival, bubbled.

He frowns at it, briefly wondering if he should drink it if he couldn't handle it. 

Then he remembered the reason he came to this bar in the first place. Remembers Elita. Before he's even aware of what he is doing, he's chugging it down. 

He immediately regrets it, unable to handle the taste and the level of alcohol in the drink, and coughing worse than a mech with a tainted filter. After what feels like 10 clicks, his coughing subsides. 

Carefully, he takes more little sips, and after some time, the world and the bar around him blend into a haze of bass and cool hues. 

~~~

After quite some he can feel himself waking up. 

 _'Ugh,'_ He thinks, and checks his internal chronometer. According to it, he had been apparently out for 8 hours. 

 _'That's better than how I recharging before,'_ he notes absently. 

Slowly, not moving, he checks the other internal systems for any bugs or viruses; thankfully, everything comes back green, nothing out of place. 

 _'Might as well get some energon'_ , he thinks, and reluctantly, he turns on one optic sensor, to look at the same gray plated room-

A gray-plated wall, that had a gun, hung up like a trophy. 

That was never a gun on the wall of his room. Forcing himself to move, he turns on the other optic senor to scan the rest of the room. He almost wishes he hadn't. All the walls were covered with guns and other various mods and, with a twisting in his tank, body parts from other mechanisms. 

Tired, suffering from an overcharge of energon, and someplace he had no idea of, Optimus had only thought on his mind:

"What the pit did I _do_ last night?" 

 

 

 


End file.
